


do bad things

by kototyph



Series: Halloween Trick or Treat Ficlets [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2014!Castiel/Dean Smith, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Dubious Consent, Ficlet, M/M, allusions to rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2548493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kototyph/pseuds/kototyph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He snaps into wakefulness with Dean’s wrist already in his hand, fragile human bone grinding against itself before he scents the air and pauses. Remembers.</p><p>“Sorry, I— I didn’t mean to startle you,” Dean says shakily, crouched at the side of the bed. “I think you’re, um. Lying on my shirt.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	do bad things

**Author's Note:**

> _Anonymous inquired:_ castiel is a vampire?
> 
> feat. Dean Smith

He snaps into wakefulness with Dean’s wrist already in his hand, fragile human bone grinding against itself before he scents the air and pauses. Remembers.

“Sorry, I— I didn’t mean to startle you,” Dean says shakily, crouched at the side of the bed. “I think you’re, um. Lying on my shirt.”

“Mm?” Castiel looks down his body, mostly exposed in the twisted-up sheets, and sees the sleeve of Dean’s utterly unimaginative navy pinstripe pinned between his chest and the mattress. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, and when Castiel releases his wrist and he stumbles back, catching himself on the side table.

The room is a little cold, a heavy patter of rain striking windows hidden by drawn curtains. They make the room gloomy, but it’s still bright to Castiel’s eyes— his kind prefer the dark.

They are not, however, particularly fond of the cold. The sheets next to him have lost all of the warmth lent by Dean’s sleeping body, and Castiel eyes the man with some petulance as he climbs awkwardly to his feet.

Castiel follows his lead, sitting up on his knees in the tangled froth of bedding and plucking the shirt from the snarl. “You’re leaving?”

Dean bites his swollen bottom lip. “I’ve got a couple meetings this afternoon, and I really need to… to get changed.”

Poor Dean. His fussily-coordinated suit and jacket are hopelessly wrinkled, his once-smooth hair spiking in twenty different directions. His tie is missing completely— still looped around one of the bedposts, Castiel confirms with a glance. One of the knees has been torn out of his pants, and when he shifts his weight he winces.

“It’s still quite early,” Castiel says, evaluating the oblique slant of what little light escapes the heavy curtains. “Why don’t you stay a little longer?”

Dean swallows. “I’d love to, really, but… I…” He takes a hobbling step back, then catches himself and stands firm as Castiel slips from the bed, naked and carrying his shirt on one finger. “I really can’t.”

“I won’t stop you,” Castiel says, shaking out the fabric. He straightens the collar before drawing the shirt over Dean’s bare shoulders, smoothing it in place. “But I’d like it if you stayed.”

His fingers stray over one of the deeper bites on Dean’s lovely neck, and the man shudders. “Can’t,” he says again, then gasps at the press of Castiel’s lips there.

Dean is heat and life, the salt-sweet taste of exertion and a faint note of copper as wounds reopen under Castiel’s seeking mouth. “Cas,” Dean protests, and Castiel firms his grip on both lapels and pulls him that little bit down for a proper kiss, finding the tiny cuts where he’d been careless with his teeth last night and drinking in Dean’s weak moan.

“Stay?” he asks. “Just a few more hours.”

“Okay,” Dean breathes, his hands settling on Castiel’s waist, clutching tighter at the firm stroke of Castiel’s tongue over abused flesh. “Alright, I’ll stay, _ah, please—_ ” 

**Author's Note:**

> I need more fandom friends! Find me on [tumblr](http://kototyph.tumblr.com/) and [livejournal](http://kototyph.livejournal.com/).


End file.
